Xander Harris: Executioner
by Willum
Summary: In a world slowly being overrun with vampires, only the Executioner stands to avenge his friends... (Now with a bonus, chapter 7 is an alternate ending--the one originally planned)
1. Angelus

With a nod to Caitlin for the electronic slap upside the head in regards to bending to the mainstream. A little darker, a little edgier, but ultimately just another piece of fiction in the sea of pointlessness…

Buffy, The Vampire Slayer

"Xander Harris, Executioner"

Harris snubbed out the cigarette with the heel of his boot, chuckling softly to himself as he saw where the vamps had made their nest. A lifetime ago he had spent much of his youthful years at The Bronze, back before things had literally gone to hell, and he thought it rather ironic that his hunt had brought him back here, a decade later.

"Bastards can't leave anything untainted," he said to himself as he started across the street.

There were others of their kind out on the street, younger ones who knew what Harris was and they quickly faded from the area. They had no desire to die tonight, they would much rather see the older ones go, the ones that tormented them almost as much as they tormented the humans.

One of them though, held his ground, lounging beside the door that gave entrance to the former Bronze, smoking a blunt and watching the approaching Executioner with wary eyes. He was only marginally fearful of Harris, knowing full well how deep the man's hatred of his kind ran, but he also had a somewhat safe working arrangement with the man. At least until he proved to be useful no more.

"Spike," said Harris in way of a greeting.

"How's it going, Xander?"

"I'll let you know in about ten minutes," replied Harris, pulling a shotgun out from under his trench coat. "Are you sure that it's him this time?"

"You got it, mate," replied Spike, stubbing out his smoke. "Showed up two nights ago, a whole bevy of beauties in tow."

"We're even, Spike," said Harris through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I'd figured you call it for this one," smiled Spike. "Kinda thought I'd throw something in for you, though. For old time's sake."

Harris pumped a round into the chamber of the shotgun, just giving Spike a sideways look of annoyance.

"Riley's on his way," revealed Spike, raising his eyebrows. "Got a whole battalion of his bloody rangers wit' em."

"He always did like overkill."

"Are you sure ya don't want my help?" asked Spike. "I wouldn't mind 'aving a hand in his demise, even if it was just some of his lackeys."

"This one's mine, Spike. If you come in, you become a target."

"Blimey, you sound just like her."

"Thanks."

Harris kicked open the door and hard rock music came blaring out into the night, mixed with the subdued screams of those being tortured within. His face was set in stone, a cold hard mask of death, and he stepped through the door firing.

The vamp guard had been fully entranced by the show being put on by his Master, completely oblivious to the intrusion of Harris until it was too late. Turning swiftly, his senses telling him that something was wrong, the vamp didn't even have time to snarl as Harris's first shot caught him in the heart, the wooden tipped projectile turning him to just so much dust.

Two more vamps spun around at the sound of the blast, lunging at the Executioner just to be blown away like their compatriot. A dozen more vamps that had been dancing and partying in the center of the Bronze, circling their Master as he slowly bled the two captive woman, suddenly froze, fear flashing across their twisted faces.

Someone pulled the plug on the jukebox, and the night became quiet, filled only with the sobbing whimpers of the two victims. Harris looked to the victims first, his blood boiling as he saw that she was one of them, the last friend he had from days long gone, and he knew that he had to end this tonight. It must have been obvious in his glare, the hatred and anger that he felt, for the vamps suddenly seemed to shrink back from him, only their Master holding his ground.

"Angelus," said Xander, and edge to his voice that, years ago, no one would have thought him capable of.

"Xander?" said Angelus, mocking him, smiling like he had just found a lost treasure. "Xander Harris, is that you?"

"I told you I wanted to be there when you died, and it looks like my lucky night."

Angelus grunted, seeming more amused than frightened, and slowly circled the two woman on the floor at his feet. The one was a blonde, a look of sheer terror on her bloodied face, tears having streaked the blood into smeared trails. Harris didn't know who she was, probably a friend, but he knew the other one, the one that he still cared about.

Willow was a blank, her eyes vacant and empty, and Harris knew that he was too late to save her. Physically she could be rescued, but mentally and emotionally, there was no hope. She had left this world a long time ago, Angelus undoubtedly having taken great pleasure in driving her over the edge.

"The White Knight returns home," mocked Angelus, brushing a hand along Willow's face. "And once again, he is too late to do anyone any good."

A movement to his right and Harris brought his gun up and fired without looking, dusting another vamp. He dropped the spent gun to the floor, his left hand reaching into his coat and bringing out a machinegun, and he aimed it at Angelus.

"Nice touch," said Angelus. "Didn't think anyone made wooden bullets anymore."

"It's amazing the services you can find if you ask the right people."

"I'm going to rip out your heart and feast on your entrails," snarled Angelus, his face vamping out fully.

"Like you did to your friends in LA?" asked Harris. "Like you did to Buffy and her mom? Like you did to Giles? Like you did to my Anya?"

"What can I say?" smiled Angelus. "I so like my work."

"Ten years, Angelus. That's a long time you've been running from me."

"I was toying with you, you idiot," spat Angelus. "Do you think that I couldn't have killed you any time that I wanted? You always wanted to be the hero, the savior of the day. And each time I took one of them, you died more than I could possibly ever do to you."

"Yeah, I know. But you also helped me become exactly what I wanted to be. Your kind fears me more than they ever did the Slayer, and it's all thanks to you. And when I kill you, and I will kill you, then none of them will be safe. I will hunt down every last vampire on the face of the earth."

"How can you hope to save yourself?" asked Angelus, placing his hands on both sides of Willow's head. "You couldn't even save a one of them."

With a twist he snapped her neck, much like he had Jenny Calendar's so many years ago, and Angelus let out a low hiss as he smiled evilly.

Harris opened up with the machinegun, not going for Angelus, but spraying the circled group of vamps, mowing them down with the deadly projectiles before any of them could react. His skills were good, honed over the years he had spent tracking Angelus, and not a one of them escaped him.

The machinegun ran dry, it's clip empty, and Harris discarded it as he had the shotgun, just dropping it to the floor. Angelus cast nervous glances about him, not believing that his entire brood had just been wiped out, and turned to face Harris, snarling with rage.

"It's just us now, dead boy," said Harris, smirking. "Is there still enough man in you to take me on, one on one?"

Angelus didn't reply, he merely leapt at Harris, roaring with anger, his claws poised to rip into the Executioner and end their decade long game of cat and mouse. The two men slammed to the ground, Angelus pinning Harris there easily with his supernatural strength, and he reared his head back hissing, his incisors ready to rip into the man's neck.

"You had to do it!" yelled Harris, resisting not at all. "You had to fall in love with Faith. You learned nothing from what happen with Buffy."

"Oh, I learned something alright," said Angelus, pausing in his attack. "I learned that I like being Angelus a whole hell of a lot more than I did being Angel."

Angelus tore into Harris's neck, ripping through the soft, plastic tasting flesh and drinking wildly. It hit him a moment before the pain did, the realization that the Executioner's flesh had tasted of plastic, and he knew then that it was over.

Roaring wilding, throwing himself backwards as he clutched at his smoking face, Angelus withered about the floor in agony. Most of his jaw was gone, his neck and chest now smoking as he disintegrated from the inside, the Executioner's latest trick working perfectly.

Harris propped himself up on his elbows, his face still showing no expressions as he watched his prey die a painful death. Bits of torn, flesh colored latex hung about his neck, his shirt wet from what little remained of the Holy Water that had been contained there.

The sounds of smashing glass and shattering wood filled the air as dozens of shapes dressed in combat gear poured into the building, Initiative forces led by Riley Finn finally arriving on the scene. Six of the soldiers circled the thrashing form of Angelus, their weapons trained on the vamp despite the obvious state of his condition.

Riley offered his hand and helped Harris up, saying nothing to the man that had become legend among even the Initiative. Riley turned, staring at the spasming, suffering thing that had once been Angel, and almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

"End it," said Riley, meaning for his men to put a wooden slug through the vamp's head.

"No," said Harris, the men listening. "It's not even a fraction of what he deserves."

Riley nodded to his men and they stood down, stepping back from the bubbling thing that Angelus was becoming. For nearly ten minutes he lay there, his ruined body trying to make sounds that it was no longer capable of, before finally dying, crumbling to dust and echor like so many before him.

"We got a report that Faith's been sighted in Baltimore," said Riley. "I could give you a one day head start."

"No. I've got to start here," said Harris, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "It's time to take back what's ours."

"I also heard that another Slayer has been activated."

"Stay away from her, Riley. They don't bring anything but death and pain."

****


	2. Reflections

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 2

"Reflections"

Carved from hardened wood, with a two-foot piece of re-enforced steel to lend it support, and blessed by the Pope himself, the sword was one of Xander's preferred weapons for dealing with vamps up close and personal. He welded it with skill taught through use, deftly swinging it about to cause the most instantaneous damage possible, and it's deep red color was a testament to its precision. This night alone he had used it to dispatch over two dozen of the creatures, nearly clearing out the remaining vamp population of Sunnydale.

The Initiative had had a large piece of the action also, taking out most of the nests within the city that Spike had told them about, and by sunrise tomorrow there would be no vampires left within the influences of the Hellmouth. All in all, it had been a productive night, and the Executioner was beginning to feel the affects of it. He was ready for the coming of day, the chance to finally rest, and he felt that it only appropriate that he do it in Spike's hole.

Spike was officially a turn coat, a traitor to his own kind, and a being more hated than even the Executioner. He might not like how things had worked out for him, causing him to battle the very evils that he was a part of, but Spike knew how to play his cards. He had decided that if the humans were going to declare war on the vamps, then at least he would do what he could to stay off his own execution, possibly even win a reprieve for his help.

Xander pushed open the large door to the tomb, surprised to see Spike already there though sunrise was nearly an hour off, and just nodded at the vamp. Rolling his eyes at seeing Harris, Spike's expression conveyed only annoyance, fully aware that if Harris had been there as the Executioner, he would have kicked the door open.

"I thought we were bloody even, Harris," spat Spike. "What the 'ell do you want now?"

"A place to sleep."

Spike let out a short laugh, staring at the man with disbelief.

"A place that I don't have to worry about."

"Yeah, right. So you thought you'd just crash with your buddy Spike? Well, I've got news for you. You're not welcome here."

"Spike. Don't piss me off. I've had a rough night."

"Oh! You've had a rough night! What the hell do you think I've had, heh? Every vampire in the bloody world is going to want my head when word gets out."

"Then maybe I should put you out of your misery now," threatened Harris, taking off his coat and laying it over a chair.

Spike let out a low whistle as he saw just how heavily armed Xander was. Two machineguns hung from his shoulders on straps; two sawed off shot guns were snuggly placed in holsters on each of his legs; a harness crossed his chest, holding dozens of shiny, silver stakes; and a pair of .45s were tucked into the waist of his pants, one in front and one in back. From the way that his coat hung on the chair, Spike could also tell that there was some other type of weapon hidden within its folds, possibly a sword.

Spike wanted to ask him about the flaps of latex hanging about his neck, but thought better of it. Whatever it had been, Spike was sure that it had involved the death of a vampire somehow, and he just watched as Xander peeled it off of himself.

"What?" asked Xander, Spike silently staring at him.

"I was just wondering," started Spike, him hawing awkwardly, and not looking like his usual, cool, killer self.

"Spike, it's been a long night, and I'm pretty tired. Either spit it out or shut it up."

"You got 'em, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Spike," said Harris. "I got him."

"I wish you would've let me in on it, mate. I would've loved to've seen that bastard go down."

"Yeah," was all Xander said in response, grabbing some blankets from a heap in the corner.

"I mean that, Harris. I wanted him dead almost as much as you and the Boy Scout."

"Why? Because he stole your thunder? Because he broke up you and the blood queen? You're reasons were vanity only, which is why you never acted on them."

"You're as blind as she was," said Spike, almost silently. "I loved her, Harris. Yeah, it was a strange love at first, a sort of twisted longing for the very thing that could kill me, but towards the end… I loved her. I loved her more than anything else."

"But you still couldn't save her," said Harris, spreading the blanket on the floor. He continued working on his sleeping spot, his words full of the harsh rage that drove him. "You couldn't save her. You couldn't stop him. You couldn't do a damn thing."

"And you did?" demanded Spike, slamming a fist onto the top of a concrete coffin and shattering the lid. "I had that bloody chip in my head! What's your excuse?"

"I wasn't here," said Harris, laying down on the semi-soft spot that he had created.

"No, you were on your bloody honeymoon, having it up with that demon girl and enjoying something that most of us never 'ave the chance to."

"And where in the hell were you?" asked Xander. "We come back to find Angelus waiting for us, with Giles strapped to a chair, already half drained by Faith. You could have warned us, but no, you ran."

"What reason did I have to stay?" Spike's voice had a sorrow to it that Xander didn't think the vampire would have been capable of. "She was dead. Joyce was dead. I was powerless to stand up to him."

"You could have tried."

"I did, damn you!" screamed Spike, his voice quivering. "I tried to stop his blood thirsty arse from entering her house, but that bloody, damn chip stopped me! He just stood there, laughing at old Spike, and spat on me! I tried to stop him with every fiber of my being, but that bloody chip wouldn't let me."

"You still ran."

"It was run or be killed. He made that clear enough. He wasn't toying around this time, not with her. He killed her and her mother, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop him."

"You could have helped the others stop him. You could have told them, warned them at least."

"It was run or die, Harris," snarled Spike, anger washing away the anguish that he had been feeling. "Who the hell are you to judge me? You took off out of her faster than shit when he killed your woman."

Xander was on feet faster than Spike would have thought possible, with a stake out and the ready, and that old hatred was burning in his eyes. He wanted to do it, Spike could tell, but he held himself back, seething with rage.

Spike was suddenly tired. Tired of the fights. Tired of the dangers. Tired of living a life without her.

"That's right, I ran," said Harris through clenched teeth. "I ran as far from this place as I could, and I swore I would do what ever I had to, to kill that bastard."

"Which was more than I could ever think about doing."

"You could have helped."

"I have. I betrayed my own kind. I passed you information. I rolled at your feet like a bloody dog and did every trick that you commanded me to. Even after I was finally free of that damn chip, I still helped you."

"Yeah," said Harris, lowering the stake. "You did, didn't you."

"You were too caught up in your hatred to notice."

"Why, Spike? Why did you keep helping?"

"Because I loved her, Xander," he said. "And… And I think that chip changed something in me over the years… I think it helped me find something I lost a long time ago."

"What?"

"My soul."

They stood there, silently, just staring at each other for a few moments, and Xander finally mumbled a "good night", returning to his impromptu bed. He pulled a blanket over himself, turning his back to Spike so that the vampire wouldn't see the tears streaming down his face. Tears for all of the death and horror he had witnessed over the last decade. Tears for the love that he so desperately missed.

"She'll be coming after you," said Spike. "You know that?"

"Yeah, I know," answered Harris.

"Do you want my help now?"

"Yeah, Spike. I think that might be a good idea."

Spike dropped back into his chair, closing his eyes to let his body shut down for the approaching day. He knew it wouldn't be long before she showed up, and he wanted to be at his best when they faced her.

Xander lay there for a few hours, motionless, longing for the sleep that he so desperately needed. Images kept flooding through his mind, of that day that his life had been forever changed, of that day that the Executioner had been born.

He and Anya had returned from their honeymoon, more in love than ever, and confident that the world was theirs for the taking. Then he had opened the door, and they found that their apartment had been turned into hell.

Giles was strapped to a chair, his shirt drenched with his own blood, being straddled by Faith. Angelus was standing there, surrounded by followers of his evil, and smirking at the surprised couple. Faith turned to look at them, her face covered with Giles' blood, and she smiled at them before turning back to the ex-Watcher and tearing into him with a savagery that was final.

The vamps swarmed over the two, and things went black for Xander, a rain of blows falling upon his head. When he finally came to, he found himself tied to his bed, the body of Anya chained to the ceiling, only a few feet from him. He cried and screamed as she awoke, now a vampire, and he realized what Angelus had planned for both of them.

Sunlight was beginning to slip through the windows of the room, and in her newly risen form, Anya was not strong enough to break free of her bindings. Xander watched as she twisted about, screaming in pain, fighting to free herself as sunrise blossomed full.

When she finally burst into flames, after pleading with him to save her, she nearly set the room on fire. Fortunately, for Xander, police and paramedics arrived before the fire could spread, and he was sparred from the fate planned for him by Angelus.

Xander probably would have faced murder charges if it hadn't been for Angelus and his brood going on a bloody spree during the night. Vampires were no longer a creature of myth, and the world was forever changed as other creatures of darkness emerged to challenge humankind's hold on it.

The Initiative became a world wide organization over night, and the world slowly slipped into darkness. That darkness was being forced back, slowly, as humankind rose to the fight, but it was a long and bloody battle. Martial law had to be declared to maintain some sense of order, and it helped, but it would be a very long time before things would ever be even remotely considered back to normal.

Harris planned to be there when it happened, even if it ment joining forces with a vamp that he would just as soon see dusted. Besides, he had no doubts that the coming battle would be a violent and trying one.

Nothing about Faith was ever easy.


	3. Prelude To Battle

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 3

"Prelude To Battle"

Xander walked along the streets of Sunnydale, amazed that the town was recovering so quickly from its occupation of vampires. People were unboarding store fronts and homes; cleaning trash from the streets; looking forward to a night free of fear for the first time in ten years. All in all, there were lots more people still here than Xander would have thought, but then Sunnydale had always been that way.

The few hours of sleep that he had managed to snatch at Spike's tomb had done him wonders despite its briefness, and he had decided that he needed to see the rest of the places that he had long ago abandoned. He had his own demons to exorcise, and Angelus had only been one of the physical ones. There were still others, memories and lost chances, that he wanted to face before tonight.

Before she arrived.

One street led to another, his feet following paths that he hadn't traveled in what seemed like a life time, and Xander found himself standing outside of the remains of his parent's house. Ruined, burnt, and caved in on it self, the structure looked much like Xander imagined it did the morning after Angelus killed his parents. Considering the state of terror that Sunnydale had quickly fallen into, Xander wouldn't have been surprised to find that their bodies were still in the ruins.

Sickened and remorseful, yes. Surprised, no.

He stood there in silence, just staring at the black and crumbly timbers that looked like the twisted skeletal remains of some gigantic creature. No thoughts ran through his mind, nor any emotions through his soul, and that bothered him more than the sight before him.

His lack of feeling.

They hadn't been good parents. Hell, they hadn't even been half-way decent parents, but they had been _his_ parents. He should feel something for them, despite the passage of time, and he thought it cold that he didn't. Colder than he had ever imagined that he could become. Cold like his father had been.

That brought forth an emotion within him. Loathing. He had loathed his father when he had been alive, and now he was loathing himself for being like him. That recognition opened the flood gate of his awareness, and Xander suddenly realized the truth of his existence.

He had become his father.

The anger. The hatred. The bitterness. The abusiveness. The cold hearted way of dealing with others. All of these traits had become Xander's, had made him into the Executioner that the legions of vampires so feared.

And he owed it to that bastard.

An old Alanis Morissette song came to mind, and Xander agreed that it was indeed ironic, how life twisted things around. For the first time ever, Xander found himself wondering what kind of childhood his father had had, what had happened to the man to turn him into the bastard that had dominated Xander's life and nightmares. 

His revere was shaken by a feeling of intrusion, and he knew that he was not alone in his vigil of the house. Looking right, thinking that a neighbor had spied him and had come out to reminisce, he was surprised to see the familiar, if aged, face of a friend from those times long ago.

"What's up?" asked Oz, as subdued as Xander remembered.

"Oz," greeted Xander, merely nodding.

"I ran into Riley a little bit ago," he offered unnecessarily. "He told me what happen last night."

"Follow my scent?" asked Xander, truly curious.

"No," replied Oz, making a _what a stupid question_ face.

"So, how's the big and hairy side of you coming along? Still got it under control?"

"Yeah."

"Still pretty much the quiet guy, I see," stated Xander.

"Uh-huh."

"So what do you want, Oz?" blurted Xander, getting a little more than unnerved with the whole semi-silent bit. "I'm sure you didn't track me down to toss out one and two word grunts."

"Did you tell Tara yet?"

"What?" asked Xander, surprise and confusion evident in his face.

"Did you tell Tara about Willow?"

Xander's mind reeled as he thought about Oz's question. He hadn't even considered the thought that Tara was still alive, assuming that if Angelus had captured Willow it was because she had been weakened by the loss of her other half. Willow and Tara had become powerful Wiccas, their love strengthening their magic, and he had never thought that either of them could be taken while both were still alive.

"I didn't realize," he finally managed to get out. "I thought that Angelus had already killed her."

"He grabbed Will two weeks ago," informed Oz. "Tara called me to try and help find her. She tried all kinds of spells, but until yesterday they all seemed like they were being blocked. Then…bam…she gets a reading that brings us right to Sunnydale."

"Imagine that," quipped Xander. "He was probably expecting you guys to show last night instead of me."

"Since the Executioner's never been to Sunnydale…" said Oz, trailing off. It was clear to Xander that he was implying that the Executioner should have come home a very long time ago.

"Never had reason until he came back here."

"What ever."

"I get the feeling that you don't like me much anymore, Oz," said Xander, the hardness creeping back into his voice. "Why's that?"

"You could have saved her, but instead you turned your back on them to carry out your hunt for Angelus."

Xander thought of his berating of Spike earlier that morning, and how he had said much the same thing to the vamp. He had accused Spike of running out on the group, of abandoning them to the wrath of Angelus, and now he was being confronted with the same apathy that he had showed.

"You should have come back to us a long time ago," said Oz.

"I'm back now."

"And it's too late for Will."

"It was too late when I found her, Oz," said Xander, his voice barely a whisper. "She… She wasn't Willow anymore. I don't think she was even human anymore."

Oz glared at him.

"On the inside," added Xander. "I could see it in her eyes, Oz. She wasn't there anymore."

"That doesn't it make it any easier."

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Do you want me to tell her?" asked Oz. "She's staying at Will's old place. I'm suppose to meet her there in an hour."

"I'll tell her," said Xander, the hardness draining from his face for the first time since Oz had greeted him. "I've got one more thing to do, but then I'll be there. I promise."

"Don't run out on this, Xander."

"I won't, Oz," he said, and Oz could tell he ment it.

Nodding slowly, Oz turned and walked up the street, not even offering a look back at the regretful Xander.

Waiting until Oz was out of sight, Xander jogged across the street and headed for the last place he ever thought he would want to see again. It wasn't far from the ruins of his parent's house, not much in Sunnydale was far from anything, and within a few minutes he was standing out side of his former apartment building.

Steeling his nerves, fighting down the feelings of loss and remorse that were trying to overwhelm him, Xander entered the building and ascended the stairs to his, and Anya's, former apartment. He was both relieved and saddened that no one had done anything with the building, and it was with a heavy heart that he halted before the shattered remains of the door to their former apartment.

The mask slipped back into place fully, the coldness evident in his eyes, and Xander stepped over the door that the police had broken down ten years ago to save him. It was the only way he could bring himself to enter the apartment, by becoming the Executioner, but once he was inside, he knew that even that was not enough.

The walls that he had so strongly built came crashing down, pure, raw, emotional pain and anguish washing through his soul like a tidal wave, and Xander Harris dropped to his knees. He beat his fists on the floor, he screamed at the top of his lungs, he wailed like the broken man that he had hidden all of these years. He released the pent up feelings of heartache that he had contained for so long, purging himself of the very forces that had driven him.

"I miss you so very much," he said to the empty room, wiping some of the tears from his face. "Oh, God, Anya. I miss you."

A warm wind swept through the apartment, a sense of love seeming to flow over him, and Xander felt peace for the first time since that horrid night a decade ago. He couldn't see her, but he knew that she was there. He could smell her scent, and he drank it in deeply, relishing it like no ecstasy that he had ever known.

Just as silently, just as warmly, she was gone, leaving him only with the impressions upon his senses to revel in. He knelt there, weeping softly with longing, and remembered all of the happy times that they had shared. Memories of love and joy, of both needing and wanting, of being complete. Time passed by, his soul feeling more complete with each passing moment, and finally he rose to leave.

He had to go to Tara and tell her about Willow.

Elsewhere…

"How is he?" asked Buffy, stepping into the room.

Anya tried to answer, but her emotions wouldn't let her, tears swelling up in her eyes and her voice cracking at the very attempt. Tara hugged her, offering comfort, and quietly told her to rest.

Willow got up from her chair on the other side of the bed, and met Buffy at the door, directing her friend back out into the hallway. Once free of the anguish that seemed to hang in the room , Willow let her guard down and began sobbing herself.

"It'll be okay, Will," offered Buffy, hugging her friend. "He'll come out of this, you'll see."

"We never should have tried it, Buffy," Willow managed to choke out. "We should have waited for Giles."

"It's not your fault, Will," said Buffy, gripping her friend by the shoulders and looking her directly in the face. "He wanted you to try it, you had no idea this would happen."

"But he won't wake up," cried Willow. "The doctors don't even know why."

"Giles is still looking for an answer," said Buffy. "He'll find something. He's even called Angel and the Council for help."

"He keeps getting weaker. Anya won't leave his side, and it's starting to wear her down, too."

"Xander's not a quitter, Will. He's fighting this thing, what ever it is, and he'll come back to us."

"Do you really think so?" asked Willow, looking deeply into Buffy's eyes for any trace of deception.

"Yes," replied Buffy, with her heart.

Willow just began crying again, letting Buffy hold her as she tormented herself over what she had done to the best friend she had ever had.


	4. Facing The Darkness

Xander Harris: Executioner 4

"Facing The Darkness"

She looked far older than her years, a wisp of grey streaking through her hair, and her eyes wrinkled at their red rimmed corners, and he knew that she had taken this harder than anyone. Tara had always been insecure, quick to think the worst of all situations, and though she had grown stronger over the years, this news of Willow's death had returned her to that weak state. She had been crying her soul out for over an hour, letting only Oz hold and comfort her, and Xander felt like even more of a shit than when he had arrived.

He understood what she was feeling all too well, and he wished that he could do absolutely anything to take away her pain. She wouldn't let him even get near her, slapping him across the face when he had first told her, and he felt that he was getting off easy with just that so far.

Oz would toss him the occasional glance, his face at times full of hatred directed at Xander, and at other times, full of the compassion that he was trying to offer the woman that had he had lost Willow to. He shared in her pain, though not to the intensity that he once would have, and he wanted nothing more than to help her through this, hoping that she could do the same for him in return.

There was a loud knock at the door, more like a pounding, and all three of them jumped nervously. Sunset was still a few hours off, but they knew what it would bring and they were getting apprehensive despite the heavy loss that was weighing down their hearts.

Xander was at the door in a second, one hand holding a .45 and the other firmly gripping the doorknob. He cast a glance back and nearly panicked when he saw a seven foot tall werewolf standing next to Tara, the shredded remains of Oz's clothes hanging from it. He started to turn to face the creature, and surprise replaced his shock as the beast spoke to him in a thick, semi-snarling voice.

"Chill, Harris," growled Oz. "I'm in control."

"Okay," replied Xander shakily. "I can deal with that."

Xander turned back to the door and used the barrel of the .45 to edge back the curtain that covered the windows along the side of the door. His brow furrowed as he saw a petite blonde standing along side Riley, the girl seeming strangely familiar. Memories of last night flooded his mind, and he recalled her being there, the other victim that Angelus had been torturing.

"It's Riley," said Xander to the others.

Slipping his gun back within the confines of his trench coat, Xander opened the door and greeted them, doing his best to block their view as a once again human Oz slipped off to find some clothing. As a Commander within the Initiative, Riley was under standing orders to kill anything supernatural that he came into contact with, and while he might ignore the human Oz, Xander knew that he wouldn't ignore the werewolf Oz.

"I thought you might be here," said Riley, sounding as if he would rather be elsewhere. "This is Jenny Blake. She's the only survivor from last night, and she wanted to thank you."

"Oh, hey, no problem," said Xander, drawing a curious look from Riley.

"You okay, Harris?" asked Riley.

"Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. You seem…different."

"Oh, no, he's the same man that saved me last night!" blurted Jenny, her voice striking a familiar cord within Xander.

"Have I met you before?" asked Xander, feeling strongly like he knew the young woman though he couldn't recall having ever seen her before.

"Huh? Oh! No!" said Jenny. "No. I've _never_ met you before."

"Are you sure? Because…"

"Yes! I'm sure," she said, a bit too excitedly.

"Uh, look, I've got things to take care of," started Riley. "I really need to get going."

"Oh, that's okay," said Jenny. "I'm ho…I mean, I can find my way back home."

"Are you sure?" asked Riley, more out of politeness than concern.

"I'll see that she gets there," offered Xander.

Riley nodded, turned smartly on his heel and briskly walked back to the waiting army jeep. The driver sped off as soon as his Commander was in, the olive drab vehicle quickly disappearing around a distant corner.

"Xander, you did it!" squealed Jenny, wrapping her arms around him.

"Uh, yeah, I know," he stammered, unsure of how to react to her glee. "I was there, remember?"

"And you're more like you!" she said, smiling at him.

"Who are you?" he asked, confused at the way she kept referring to him like she had known him for a long time.

Jenny stepped around the perplexed Xander and entered the house, coming to halt as she saw the emotionally drained Tara seating on the edge of the sofa. Tara looked up at her, her eyes widening in disbelief, and a smile spreading across her face in recognition.

Xander closed the door and turned back around to see Tara smiling like an idiot, and Oz standing in the doorway of the kitchen, sniffing at the air. Oz's expression lit up like a child that had just found his most prized toy, lost for weeks, and Xander felt completely out of the loop.

"Uh, what's going on here?" asked Xander.

Tara was up from the couch in a flash, Jenny running towards her at the same moment, and the two women met halfway, embracing each other passionately. They were both weeping in the joyous sad way that women have, and Oz slowly walked over to them, smiling, and joined them in their embrace.

"Hey, we're suppose to be in mourning here," said Xander.

At Jenny's instigation, the group hug broke apart, the young blonde turning to face Xander with tear filled eyes and a wide spread grin. Shaking her head, she walked up to him and gently cupped his face with her hands.

"Xander, it's me," she said.

"Will?" he asked, hesitantly.

She nodded, fresh tears flowing as her smile grew even wider. She hugged him tightly, Xander returning the show of affection with a touch of uncertainty. She could sense his confusion, and she stepped back from him, smacking him in the arm like she was so disappointed that he couldn't see the obvious.

"How?" asked Xander, still uncertain though he knew it was true.

"Remember Amy and her mom?"

Xander nodded.

"Same thing, but I switched places with this poor girl," explained Jenny/Willow. "Angelus destroyed her mind with his tortures, wanting to save me for bait to try and trap Tara. When I saw you come charging in, I knew that he would kill me before he would let you rescue me, so…"

"Don't thank him too much," said Oz. "He wasn't there to rescue you, Will."

"Xander?" asked Willow.

He couldn't look at her, even with the strange face that she was wearing, and she knew that there was truth to Oz's statement. She took a small step back, betrayal playing across her new face, and Xander felt another part of himself wither in shame.

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Will, I… I didn't know you were there," he said, still looking down at he floor. "I'd tracked him there, wanting only to kill him. When I saw you there… Well, it was just another excuse to do what I had wanted to do for a long time."

"I understand," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "I don't hate you, Xander. I never did. You did what you had to do."

Xander did finally look up, his face twisted with anguish as he fought back the tears that were burning his eyes. He had given up his soul for such a long time that it was coming back with a vengeance that he could not control, the remorse flowing from him with a palatable energy of its own.

Willow began crying again, sharing her friend's pain, and embraced him once more, offering the comfort that only she could. Tara joined her, holding both of them tightly as they all cried out the pain of ten years, and moments later they were joined by a fourth, even Oz letting go of his anger.

"Oh, if this isn't a bloody Kodak moment," came Spike's mocking voice.

The four of them looked at him with red, tear filled eyes, almost laughing as they saw him smoking slightly despite having used a heavy blanket to cover himself from the sunlight.

"You all better pull yer heads out a your arses," said Spike, tossing the blanket aside. "She's not far off."

"Who?" asked Tara before Willow or Oz could.

"Faith," answered Xander.

"And she's bloody well pissed," added Spike. "I hope the Executioner's up to takin' er on."

A shudder ran through Xander and fear flashed across his face. The others had missed it, but Spike hadn't, and the vamp was suddenly alert, worried about what he had just seen.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Spike. "Was that fear?"

"Uh, well, you see…" stammered Xander.

"Oh, hell, you've lost your bloody nerve," stated Spike, slumping against the wall. "What? You meet up with some old friends and suddenly you're a pussy again?"

"I made my peace with Anya," said Xander, unashamed.

"Oh, that's just great. You made your peace," ranted Spike, pacing about the living room. "And now the most violent vampire in the world comes here to take our heads!"

"She won't be taking anybody's head," said Oz, almost too quietly. He held his open hand out, looking at the others expectantly.

Xander smiled and placed his hand over Oz's.

Then Willow, followed by Tara, like a team of players that had just decided they were going to win the game no matter what odds they faced. They stood there, offering their support to each other, and all of them looked to Spike.

"Oh, bloody hell," griped Spike, rolling his eyes.

The others just smiled as he walked over and smacked his hand down on top of theirs, offering a forced smile in response.

Elsewhere,

Giles slammed shut the book he had been reading, tossed his glasses to the table, and began massaging his eyes. Frustration was starting to become a constant companion, and he feared that it would be an emotion that he would never be free of. He hadn't been able to find even a passing mention of anything that remotely resembled the Relic that he had given Willow, and he was fearing that he never would.

He knew that the young Wicca blamed herself, but that the fault was entirely his. He should have never given her the seemingly innocent trinket, knowing full well that any relic found within the vicinity of the Hellmouth was not going to be harmless no matter how it appeared.

The door to the Magic Shop rattled open, a tired looking Buffy entering, and he could tell from her expression that she was not the barer of good news. The strain of the past few weeks was beginning to show even on her, and he cursed himself yet again for allowing this to happen.

"How is he?" asked Giles, hoping for any news at all.

"Stable, for a change," said Buffy, setting in a chair next to Giles. "He's still not responding to anything, but he's not slipping further away for the moment."

"That's a small comfort," stated Giles, replacing his glasses on his face. "As long as his condition doesn't worsen, then we have more time to search for an answer."

"Any news from the Council?" asked Buffy, knowing that Giles would have already told her if there had been anything positive.

"No, I'm afraid. They're as perplexed as we are, but they've still got people researching it."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them absently staring at the pile of leather bound books strewn over the table.

"We can't give up hope, Buffy," offered Giles.

"I know. It's just that I feel so helpless. Everything that I am, and I can't do a damn thing to help him. I feel utterly useless."

"Yes, I know what you mean."

Silence again invaded the shop, neither of them interested in breaking it, and they just sat in each other's company. The sharp ring of the phone made them both jump, and they let out nervous laughs that belayed the knotted up feelings within them. Giles thought of ignoring it, it was the business line after all, but decided that he might as well tell who ever it was that they were going to be closed for a while.

"Thank you for… Wesley?" said Giles, recognized the babbling voice on the other end of the line.

Buffy looked up expectantly, hoping that things were finally going to change.

"Yes, I understand," said Giles into the phone. "Yes…yes…you need what?…well, yes, I suppose we can…of course not, not in the shop…but…very well…yes, so long."

Giles hung up the phone and stood there looking mystified, rubbing his chin as he fell into a deep thought. His silence was grating on Buffy's nerves, and she finally burst, demanding to know what had been said.

"Oh, sorry," apologized Giles. "That was Wesley."

"So I gathered," she said, feeling perturbed. "What did he say?"

"Angel's on his way here, right now. He thinks he's found an answer to our problem, but we need to have things ready for when he arrives. He says that Xander might not have much time left."

"Shopping list?" demanded Buffy, rising to grab a pen and paper.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, well I have most of the items here," he started, "except for one."

"Which is?"

"The blood of a demon."

Buffy grabbed a decorative vial from within the main counter, and held it up for Giles to examine. "How much?"

"Oh, Buffy, I wouldn't charge you…"

"How much blood do you need?"

"Sorry. Not much, just a few drops actually."

"I'll meet you at the hospital," she yelled back, running out the door.


	5. Faith

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 5

"Faith"

"Patrol!" yelled Oz, in a whisper-shout voice.

The others ducked behind tombstones and tombs, hiding from the probing search light of the Initiative hum-vee. Initiative forces were out in number, rumors of the impending arrival of Faith having all of Sunnydale in a panic. Free from the clutches of vampire rule for less than a day and already a new, vicious vamp was making to step in and retake control of the city.

Or, at least, the general populace thought that to be the case. Riley, though he had not reported it to his superiors, knew the same truth that the remaining members of the Scooby Gang did; that Faith was coming to Sunnydale for revenge.

Spike had virtually taken charge of the group in light of Xander's…regression, and had quickly organized them all into preparing for the night's battle. It was decided that it would be best to get it done and over with, Faith would only terrorize the town if they didn't, so they decided to at least give themselves the home field advantage. While Oz, Tara, Willow, and Spike prepared the Sunnydale Cemetery with a few surprises, Xander had gone and had a conference with Riley.

Riley had complete understood what Xander wanted, free reign for his group to battle Faith no matter what, but Commander Finn had had a problem with it. Weighing the decision through, Riley had agreed to do some finagling with the patrol schedule, giving the gang a two hour window in which the cemetery would be unmonitored. If Riley was as good as his word, then this would be the last patrol to pass by until midnight.

"Clear," reported Oz, the hum-vee turning onto a main road and speeding away.

"Okay, it's ten o'clock," started Xander. "We better hope that Faith shows up in the next ninety minutes. Well, maybe hope is too strong of a word."

"Xander," said Willow, in a mock-threatening voice.

"Bloody wuss," snarled Spike. "Look, just get her into the tomb and I'll do the rest. If she goes right after sissy boy here, then he can run screaming into my home and let me have a go at her."

"Sissy boy?" admonished Xander. "I'll have you know that I killed over two hundred and fifty vamps in the last ten years!"

"And where in the bloody hell is the Executioner now?"

Xander glared at him, his anger rising, but not reaching anything near the levels it once had. His drive, his desire to see the vampires destroyed, had faded in the hours after his slaying of Angelus, and his brief spiritual contact with Anya had cleansed the feelings from him completely.

"Oh, that's right," continued Spike. "I forgot. _You_ made _your _peace."

"Hey, I can do this!" said Xander, jabbing a finger against Spike's chest. "There's a lot more to me than hatred."

"Xander," said Willow, softly. "There is a lot more to you than hatred, but that's all that there was to the Executioner."

"Then I say," he paused slightly, "we don't need him."

The others looked at him in silence, all them glad to have back with them the Xander of years past, the Xander that they had grown up with and had cared for. But though none other than Spike would say it, they wished deep down inside that the Executioner was there, at least for tonight.

"Right then," said Spike, rolling his eyes. "Let's get ready, the bitch'll be here any time."

Spike turned to head for his tomb, planing to lie in wait for the ex-slayer, and his ears picked up a swishing sound. He knew instantly what it was, and even from which direction it had come, but his reflexes weren't fast enough to react to it. A searing pain enveloped his senses, and he looked down at his chest in dismay, the shaft of the crossbow bolt sticking out directly where his heart was.

"Oh bloody hell," he managed to get out.

Spike blew apart in a cloud of dust, Tara screaming as he disintegrated right in front of her, buffeting her with grains of brown and grey matter. The others let outs gasps of shock and surprise, immediately scanning the area for the shooter that had so easily killed one of their members.

Faith stood atop Spike's very tomb, decked out in her black leather pants and vest, and sporting a white tee-shirt. Her hair was cut short, flat across the top and spiked up, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of hatred and lust that looked perfectly at home above her bright, red lips.

"You know," she said to the group as she tossed her crossbow aside, "I never knew why you guys kept him around. Even before he became the Slayer's pet."

Willow reacted first, whispering words of power as she went through the motion of throwing something, and a sparkling ball of red energy shot from her hand. Faith did a side flip from the roof of the tomb, hitting the edge of it on her hands and propelling herself to the ground to land on her feet. The magical missile hit the exact spot where Faith had been standing, blowing a hole in the tomb that was left glowing red hot and smoking.

From within the holds of her vest, Faith pulled out a compact machine-pistol and unleashed a short burst that stitched a trail of bloody holes across the transforming chest of Oz. Screaming out in pain, Oz was thrown backwards over a tombstone, hitting the ground fully human once again. He looked up into the night sky with empty eyes, and they knew that he was dead, his still chest covered with blood.

"Didn't know he was allergic to silver," said Faith, smiling cruelly. 

Willow and Tara both unleashed their powers, tossing one magical blast after another at Faith, the vampire easily avoiding them with leaps, ducks, and rolls. The night kept giving way to flashes of red and blue, both of the Wiccas straining their abilities to the limit in an attempt to bring the vamp down.

The previous night's ordeal still affecting her, Willow was the first to falter, dropping to one knee as her body rejected channeling any more energies. Xander ran to help Willow up, and Tara was momentarily distracted, filled with concern over her weakened love.

Faith did not miss the opportunity.

Leaping with all of her strength, somersaulting in the air, Faith landed before the overwhelmed trio, a wooden stake in each hand. Faith thought it incredibly amusing that, now a vampire, she continued to use the tools of her former trade in any instance that she could, and the stakes were her favorite. With the strength of a Slayer, enhanced by her vampiric condition, she slammed one stake into Tara and the other into Willow, killing the two Wiccas almost instantly.

Xander stood frozen, his entire being numb from the slaughter he had just witnessed, terrified in the knowledge that even Angelus had not been as fast or as brutal as Faith had just been. In less than five minutes, she had killed the only friends he had had left, forcing him to experience the nightmare all over again.

Ten years ago the evil of Angelus had created the killing machine that came to be known as the Executioner. Tonight, less than a day after his death, the Executioner was reborn through the vile actions of Faith.

Once again it was too late to save his friends. Once again he had to live with the knowledge that he had failed them, letting them die at the hands of a vampire. Once again he pledged that he would not stop until the death of the dark creature. Once again, Harris the Executioner walked the face of the earth.

Harris's boot caught her below the chin, Faith's head snapping back from the kick that sent her flying into a tombstone almost ten feet away. The thick, marble epithet shattered from the impact, and Faith lay squirming in slight pain as Harris strode up to her with hatred once again burning in his eyes.

"I was wondering when you were going to join the party," quipped Faith, rising on one arm to look up at Xander. "Maybe now I can have some real fun."

Faith arched her back and pushed off with her hands, righting herself before the attacking Harris. She immediately lashed out at him with a series of swift strikes, Harris deftly countering each one of them and trying to get in a few of his own.

Smacks and thuds echoed through the air as they continually blocked each other's attacks, the battle seemingly almost a stalemate. Harris finally managed to get a hit in, sending Faith spinning to the ground, and leapt at her, hoping to snap her neck with a well placed kick.

Faith caught his foot, twisted and pushed, and Harris flipped backwards, landing at an odd angle. He went down to one knee with a sharp snapping sound, and pain lanced from his ankle all the way up his leg. He knew that it was broken, put he pushed the pain from his awareness, rising to meet Faith's challenge.

"Damn, but you're almost as good as she was," said Faith, facing him with an evil smile. "Tell you what. Let me make it quick, and you can be my new boy toy."

"I think I'd rather have your ashes on my mantle," replied Harris.

"Come on, Xandie. Don't you remember how much fun I can be?" she coyly asked him, slowly running her tongue over her lips. "We could rule this world, you and I. You'd like it a lot more than you think."

Harris had one shot at ending this, and he decided to take it now. A snap of his wrists and two stakes slid down the arms of his trench coat, his hands firmly wrapping around the finely honed pieces of wood. Pushing off with his good foot, he brought the stakes up, holding them together as he lunged at Faith.

She was not unprepared.

Moving with speed that amazed even Harris, Faith clasped both of the stakes in her hands, ripping the weapons from his grip and tossing them into the darkness. She then grabbed his hands and flipped him over her shoulder, slamming him onto a large, marble slab that cracked with the force of his impact.

Dazed, pains racking his body as his senses swam in a thick blackness, Harris grunted as Faith landed on top of him, straddling him like an excited lover. She pinned him there, her fangs gleaming brightly as she smiled, and she leaned down and kissed him passionately.

"Are you sure?" she asked, finally breaking the kiss.

Harris spit in her face.

Snarling with rage, Faith pulled another stake from her vest and drew her arm back in readiness to slam it down into Harris's chest.

"That was so the wrong thing to do," she said.

Elsewhere…

Buffy was thrilled to see Angel and Cordelia standing outside of Xander's room when she arrived, and it took the edge off the anxiety she was still feeling from having just hunted down and killed a demon. She hugged Angel in greeting, then Cordelia, bringing a smile to the trailing Spike's face in response to the _friendly_ greeting she had only offered.

"What's he doing here?" asked Cordelia, pointing at Spike.

"He helped me find a demon," answered Buffy, holding up the blood filled vial. "Now, please tell me you can undo this…whatever it is."

Angel looked a bit apprehensive, and both Buffy and Spike knew him well enough to know that that was not a good thing.

"What?" demanded Buffy.

"Only Xander can break the curse," informed Angel.

"Curse?" asked Buffy, confused.

"It's not a bloody curse," quipped Spike. "The little Wicca screwed up a spell she was trying on sissy boy."

"A spell of enlightenment, yes I know," countered Angel. "Giles informed me of everything. Unfortunately, she centered the spell on the ring she had given him."

"The one that Giles gave her," stated Buffy.

"A ring of despair. Her magic reactivated it, and now Xander's living out his darkest wish, and it's killing him at the same time."

"But he can't wake up," Buffy nearly yelled. "How can he break the curse?"

"Wesley found a spell that will help us get to him," said Cordelia.

"Exactly," confirmed Angel. "Two of us can go join him, in this world that his mind's created."

"How in the bloody hell is that going to save him?" asked Spike. "I can't imagine there'd be much to one of his imaginary worlds."

"Then what?" asked Buffy, glaring at Spike.

"Then we have to make him realize that it's not real, before it's too late."

"Before what's too late?"

"He can die in there, Buffy," said Cordelia, a worried look on her face. "Just as if he were in the real world."

"That's how the ring works," added Angel. "It traps the wearer in a netherworld of their own creation, and brings about their darkest desires, their darkest fears, and it uses those to kill them."

"Let's do this, then" said Spike, drawing looks from the others. "What? He kinda grows on you…like a puppy."

A surprised, and mystified, look passed over Angel's face. Cordelia rolled her eyes and added a "what ever", while Buffy just looked at him with shock.

"I could just put him out of his misery," countered Spike, trying to save face.

"Tell me what we have to do," said Buffy. "I want to get in there now."

"I'm going, too," said Anya, the others turning to see her standing along side Giles in the open doorway of Xander's room. "As much as he likes you, Buffy, he might only listen to me."

Buffy nodded.

"We'd better hurry," spoke Giles. "He seems to be slipping again."

To Be Concluded…


	6. Psyche Out

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 6

"Psyche Out"

Faith brought the stake down in a wide arc, intending to slam it through Xander's heart and into the marble slab beneath him. The Executioner had other ideas, twisting at the last possible moment, having been feigning his weakness, and sent the vampire sprawling off of him. Faith hit the ground rolling, coming up on her feet and spinning around to face the already standing Harris.

"You should learn some new dance moves," said Harris, drawing his sword from its sheath within the confines of his duster. "This one's already getting old."

"Damn you, Harris," cursed Faith. "Why can't you die as easily as your friends?"

"You know, Faithless, for the longest time I've been blaming my self for everyone's death. But you know what, it wasn't my fault at all. They were soft. They cared for someone and that led them to get sloppy."

"Hey, Harris," said Faith, smiling at him. "I'm starting to like your attitude."

"It's kept me alive this long."

"Why don't you let it keep you alive a lot longer, huh?" she asked, casting him a sultry look of desire. "I enjoyed you when I was human. I can't imagine what you would be like as one of us."

"Once again, no thanks. I prefer preying on the dead."

"Then I'm just going to have to kill you," said Faith, bating her eyelashes at him and trying to look sweet and remorseful.

"You can try."

"I can do it."

Again relying on her fantastic speed, Faith pulled her last stake out from her vest and threw it with enough force that it could have cleanly pierced an elephant. Harris was ready for the move, bringing his sword up in a side swing that deflected the stake away from him, and he stood holding the weapon before him in a mock salute.

"Like I said, you can try," snipped Harris.

The two circled each other, Faith looking for an opening in which to launch an attack and Harris just wanting to keep her at bay. The thought of beating her didn't even enter his mind, he merely wanted to keep the battle going, stalling until the next Initiative patrol would come by. He didn't know if he could do it, it would be almost two hours, but he was going to give it his all.

Concentrating on each other, neither Harris nor Faith noticed the swirling mists of blue-grey smog that began forming about two nearby graves. Graves that were part of a large plot set up ten years ago by a devastated Xander. Graves that held the bodies of his friends killed during Angelus's original rampage. Graves that belonged to Buffy Summers and Anya Harris.

The smog spiraled upwards, forming human shapes, and solidified into the beings of Buffy and Anya. The two women looked about, disoriented, and quickly zeroed in on the dueling Xander and Faith, about five yards from them. Trading looks of trepidation, the two beat a path for the combatants.

"Xander!" yelled Anya, running for her love.

Buffy headed for Faith, only slightly surprised to see her as a vampire, eager to keep her from killing Xander. She came to a sliding halt between the two, stake in hand, and glared at Faith with open contempt.

Anya went to wrap her arms around Xander, crying out in surprise as she flashed right through him to come to a stumbling stop. She spun around, confused as to what just happened, and looked to Xander with pleading eyes.

Harris apparently hadn't even noticed her, concentrating instead on the form of Buffy standing between him and Faith. His face was a mask of anger, rage his apparent reaction to the unexpected arrival of the long dead Slayer.

"Buffy," he snarled, still holding his sword at the ready. "What in the hell are you doing here? You're dead!"

Faith's brow furrowed as she looked at Xander in confusion.

"No I'm not, Xander," said Buffy, keeping her attention on Faith. "You're trapped in a…uh…an either…no…an…damn it, Giles told me…"

"Netherworld plain!" yelled Anya.

"Yeah, that's it," agreed Buffy.

"Anya?" wondered Xander, finally noticing her. "This is too much."

"Who the hell are you talking to?" demanded Faith. Then she smiled again, asking "is the Executioner losing it?"

"She can't see us," said Buffy.

"Buffy, I went right through him like…like a ghost."

"You are a ghost," said Xander, turning back to face Faith. "You're both ghosts."

"No, we're not," countered Anya. "Xander listen to us. You're trapped in a netherworld plain created by that ring that Willow gave you."

"What ring?" demanded Xander, looking quickly to his hands. "The only ring I ever wear is my wedding ring."

"That's not what it is," cried Anya. "Please, you have to listen to us, this is your only chance."

"Shouldn't talk to ghosts, Harris," said Faith. "It's distracting."

She lunged at him, passing through the form of Buffy to come flying at him with a snarl on her face and her claws poised to strike. Xander brought his sword up, but with his concentration broken by the distraction of the ghostly figures of Anya and Buffy, he wasn't fast enough. Instead of driving the sword through Faith's heart, the sword pierced her shoulder, foiling her attack but not killing her.

Faith and Xander slammed to the ground, the vampire gritting her teeth in pain as she wretched the sword from her shoulder. Xander rolled away from her, quickly rising to his feet, and pulled his .45s. He knew the guns wouldn't kill her, but they could do enough damage to buy him some time.

"Xander, take off the ring!" screamed Anya.

"Shut up!" yelled Harris, emptying both clips of his guns into the withering Faith.

The barrage of slugs tore into the vampire's chest and face, doing serious damage and locking her in the throws of agony. Faith was a powerful vampire, as was evident by the way that her body began healing almost immediately, and Harris cursed, knowing he had not bought himself as much time as he had hoped.

"Xander, you have to take off the ring to dispel this nightmare," pleaded Buffy.

"Leave me alone!" shouted Harris, turning and fleeing towards Spike's tomb.

He hit the heavy door hard, slamming it open, and immediately shut it behind him, sliding a large iron bar into place to effectively lock it. He looked about the dark chamber, trying to decide which booby-trap he should try and use against Faith. They had only set up three in here, confident that once she was inside, all of them would be able to take her out, and now that was working against him. The traps required at least two people, or someone with the speed of a vampire, to trigger, and Harris was wondering if he could pull it off.

Buffy and Anya materialized behind him, simply stepping through the walls, and continued their arguments.

"Xander Harris, listen to me," said Anya. "I love you with all of my heart, and I have spent the last two weeks setting by your side as you slowly slipped away from us. I will not loose you, not this way, not this time."

"You're a ghost, Anya," spat Harris. "You died a long time ago."

With a boom, a crack appeared in the solid door of the tomb, Faith having apparently healed enough to come after him with a vengeance. Her screams of hate and frustration could dimly be heard through the thick, stone walls.

"Xander, listen to her," said Buffy. "Willow was doing a spell of enlightenment on you because you kept bugging her about knowing your future. Her power reactivated the magic in the ring that she gave you for your birthday. It's called a ring of despair, and it's a cursed relic."

"Buffy, stop," said Xander, calmly, despite another shattering blow being delt to the door by Faith. "You and Anya are dead. Yes, I remember Willow's spell, but that was twelve years ago and it didn't work."

"Xander…" started Anya, silenced by a glare from Harris.

"When Faith got out on parole, she started working for Angel and they fell in love. Wesley thought he found a spell that would keep Angel from changing, but it was a fake. An old trap set by Wolfram and Hart that had been planted along time ago but never used.

"When Faith and Angel did the nasty, Angelus came back with a fury. He sired Faith then and there, and the two of them went on a bloody rampage. The rest, as I say, is history."

"It's a lie, Xander," argued Buffy.

"No, you're the lie. Everyday I think that maybe this is some horrible dream, that I'll wake up and everything will be back to normal. Or that I am under the influence of some dark magic, and you are all trying to save me."

"That's what this is, Xander," stressed Buffy.

"Buffy," whispered Anya, a sad look falling over her face.

"No, it's not. This is the real world, Buffy. You're part of the lie that I keep telling myself just might come true."

"Buffy," said Anya, a little louder, getting the attention of the Slayer. "He's right."

Buffy looked at her incredulously.

"I remember," said Anya, pain in her voice. "I remember what he did to me. He made me one of them and left me there to die while Xander was forced to watch."

"Anya, your feeling the affects of the ring," said Buffy, her voice tinged with just a bit of doubt.

"Buffy," said Xander, looking at her with sad eyes. "You died ten years ago at the hands of Angelus."

Tears began burning at Buffy's eyes, the memories slowly flaming to life in her mind. She remembered it all; Angelus showing up, pretending to be Angel, before they had heard of what had happened in LA; surprise let him overpower her, and she awoke to find herself chained to a chair, her mother's lifeless body sprawled out before her.

"Oh, God, no," sobbed Buffy, the memory of Faith entering the room then, smiling at her and asking if she was five by five. "This can't be. Angel sent us in to rescue you."

"You can't rescue me, Buffy," said Xander, sadly. "Neither can Anya. You're both just figments of my imagination."

The door to the tomb crashed down in a cloud of dust, the silhouette of Faith outlined by the white glow of a half moon. She held stakes in both hands, having retrieved the weapons, and she was huffing with exertion and anger. The front of her was mostly shadow, but Harris could tell that she hadn't healed completely, and that ment that she would need to feed soon or risk being permanently marred.

"You are so dead," she growled.

"I think you got that backwards," replied Harris, throwing the last weapon that he had with him.

The razor sharp throwing disk zipped through the air, striking an innocent looking rope tied to the wall next to Faith. At the same time, Harris leapt to his left, knocking over a strategically placed pole that helped support Spike's favorite surprise.

The beam was roughly a foot thick, four feet long, round, and sharpened to a fine point. It swung down on thick cables, gliding invisibly through the darkness on a direct course for the open doorway. Faith's eyes widened in surprise, the gigantic stake slamming into her and turning her into a cloud of dust before it broke free of it's cables to sail out into the cemetery.

Harris looked about the tomb, hoping to at least say goodbye to his love, and felt a pang of regret that the tomb was empty. Nodding to himself, his face once again set in the dispassionate glare that was renowned to the Executioner, Harris walked out of the tomb and into the night.

Elsewhere…

The members of the Scooby Gang, and their two friends from LA, stood around the still form of Xander, laying motionlessly on the hospital bed. A dull, constant beep rang out from one of the many machines hooked to him, it's cry ignored by all that were left to this world.

Around them, darkness grew, slowly eating away at the world until there was nothing left but them. They looked at each other, none saying a word as they vanished back into the distant reaches of the hopeful imagination of Xander Harris, the Executioner.


	7. Alternate Ending

A/N: This is the original ending that I had planned for this story, before all of the feedback enjoying the dark tones. I felt that I should at least post it as an addition to the story, not just for myself, but for those that wanted a "series-style" end to the story.

Just think of is an "alternate ending" bonus feature.

****

XANDER HARRIS: EXECUTIONER 6

"Psyche Out"

Faith brought the stake down in a wide arc, intending to slam it through Xander's heart and into the marble slab beneath him. The Executioner had other ideas, twisting at the last possible moment, having been feigning his weakness, and sent the vampire sprawling off of him. Faith hit the ground rolling, coming up on her feet and spinning around to face the already standing Harris.

"You should learn some new dance moves," said Harris, drawing his sword from its sheath within the confines of his duster. "This one's already getting old."

"Damn you, Harris," cursed Faith. "Why can't you die as easily as your friends?"

"You know, Faithless, for the longest time I've been blaming my self for everyone's death. But you know what, it wasn't my fault at all. They were soft. They cared for someone and that led them to get sloppy."

"Hey, Harris," said Faith, smiling at him. "I'm starting to like your attitude."

"It's kept me alive this long."

"Why don't you let it keep you alive a lot longer, huh?" she asked, casting him a sultry look of desire. "I enjoyed you when I was human. I can't imagine what you would be like as one of us."

"Once again, no thanks. I prefer preying on the dead."

"Then I'm just going to have to kill you," said Faith, bating her eyelashes at him and trying to look sweet and remorseful.

"You can try."

"I can do it."

Again relying on her fantastic speed, Faith pulled her last stake out from her vest and threw it with enough force that it could have cleanly pierced an elephant. Harris was ready for the move, bringing his sword up in a side swing that deflected the stake away from him, and he stood holding the weapon before him in a mock salute.

"Like I said, you can try," snipped Harris.

The two circled each other, Faith looking for an opening in which to launch an attack and Harris just wanting to keep her at bay. The thought of beating her didn't even enter his mind, he merely wanted to keep the battle going, stalling until the next Initiative patrol would come by. He didn't know if he could do it, it would be almost two hours, but he was going to give it his all.

Concentrating on each other, neither Harris nor Faith noticed the swirling mists of blue-grey smog that began forming about two nearby graves. Graves that were part of a large plot set up ten years ago by a devastated Xander. Graves that held the bodies of his friends killed during Angelus's original rampage. Graves that belonged to Buffy Summers and Anya Harris.

The smog spiraled upwards, forming human shapes, and solidified into the beings of Buffy and Anya. The two women looked about, disoriented, and quickly zeroed in on the dueling Xander and Faith, about five yards from them. Trading looks of trepidation, the two beat a path for the combatants.

"Xander!" yelled Anya, running for her love.

Buffy headed for Faith, only slightly surprised to see her as a vampire, eager to keep her from killing Xander. She came to a sliding halt between the two, stake in hand, and glared at Faith with open contempt.

Anya went to wrap her arms around Xander, crying out in surprise as she flashed right through him to come to a stumbling stop. She spun around, confused as to what just happened, and looked to Xander with pleading eyes.

Harris apparently hadn't even noticed her, concentrating instead on the form of Buffy standing between him and Faith. His face was a mask of anger, rage his apparent reaction to the unexpected arrival of the long dead Slayer.

"Buffy," he snarled, still holding his sword at the ready. "What in the hell are you doing here? You're dead!"

Faith's brow furrowed as she looked at Xander in confusion.

"No I'm not, Xander," said Buffy, keeping her attention on Faith. "You're trapped in a…uh…an either…no…an…damn it, Giles told me…"

"Netherworld plain!" yelled Anya.

"Yeah, that's it," agreed Buffy.

"Anya?" wondered Xander, finally noticing her. "This is too much."

"Who the hell are you talking to?" demanded Faith. Then she smiled again, asking "is the Executioner losing it?"

"She can't see us," said Buffy.

"Buffy, I went right through him like…like a ghost."

"You are a ghost," said Xander, turning back to face Faith. "You're both ghosts."

"No, we're not," countered Anya. "Xander listen to us. You're trapped in a netherworld plain created by that ring that Willow gave you."

"What ring?" demanded Xander, looking quickly to his hands. "The only ring I ever wear is my wedding ring."

"That's not what it is," cried Anya. "Please, you have to listen to us, this is your only chance."

"Shouldn't talk to ghosts, Harris," said Faith. "It's distracting."

She lunged at him, passing through the form of Buffy to come flying at him with a snarl on her face and her claws poised to strike. Xander brought his sword up, but with his concentration broken by the distraction of the ghostly figures of Anya and Buffy, he wasn't fast enough. Instead of driving the sword through Faith's heart, the sword pierced her shoulder, foiling her attack but not killing her.

Faith and Xander slammed to the ground, the vampire gritting her teeth in pain as she wretched the sword from her shoulder. Xander rolled away from her, quickly rising to his feet, and pulled his .45s. He knew the guns wouldn't kill her, but they could do enough damage to buy him some time.

"Xander, take off the ring!" screamed Anya.

"Shut up!" yelled Harris, emptying both clips of his guns into the withering Faith.

The barrage of slugs tore into the vampire's chest and face, doing serious damage and locking her in the throws of agony. Faith was a powerful vampire, as was evident by the way that her body began healing almost immediately, and Harris cursed, knowing he had not bought himself as much time as he had hoped.

"Xander, you have to take off the ring to dispel this nightmare," pleaded Buffy.

"Leave me alone!" shouted Harris, turning and fleeing towards Spike's tomb.

He hit the heavy door hard, slamming it open, and immediately shut it behind him, sliding a large iron bar into place to effectively lock it. He looked about the dark chamber, trying to decide which booby-trap he should try and use against Faith. They had only set up three in here, confident that once she was inside, all of them would be able to take her out, and now that was working against him. The traps required at least two people, or someone with the speed of a vampire, to trigger, and Harris was wondering if he could pull it off.

Buffy and Anya materialized behind him, simply stepping through the walls, and continued their arguments.

"Xander Harris, listen to me," said Anya. "I love you with all of my heart, and I have spent the last two weeks setting by your side as you slowly slipped away from us. I will not loose you, not this way, not this time."

"You're a ghost, Anya," spat Harris. "You died a long time ago."

With a boom, a crack appeared in the solid door of the tomb, Faith having apparently healed enough to come after him with a vengeance. Her screams of hate and frustration could dimly be heard through the thick, stone walls.

"Xander, listen to her," said Buffy. "Willow was doing a spell of enlightenment on you because you kept bugging her about knowing your future. Her power reactivated the magic in the ring that she gave you for your birthday. It's called a ring of despair, and it's a cursed relic."

"Buffy, stop," said Xander, calmly, despite another shattering blow being delt to the door by Faith. "You and Anya are dead. Yes, I remember Willow's spell, but that was twelve years ago and it didn't work."

"Xander…" started Anya, silenced by a glare from Harris.

"When Faith got out on parole, she started working for Angel and they fell in love. Wesley thought he found a spell that would keep Angel from changing, but it was a fake. An old trap set by Wolfram and Hart that had been planted along time ago but never used.

"When Faith and Angel did the nasty, Angelus came back with a fury. He sired Faith then and there, and the two of them went on a bloody rampage. The rest, as I say, is history."

Anya moved, as if to grab Xander by the shoulders, and her hands passed right through him, inciting a curse from her. She spun around to face Buffy, her face streaked with tears and flush with frustration.

"Xander, I have asked you to take a lot on faith before," started Buffy, stepping up to face him.

"Funny choice of words," he smirked.

"And I'm asking you again. Please, trust us."

"Xander, honey, just take off the ring," pleaded Anya. "If we're telling you the truth, then you'll be free of this nightmare. If we're figures of your imagination, then nothing happens. So what? You've got nothing to lose by trying it."

The door boomed again, the crack in its center widening, and dust billowed from its edges as Faith continued battering at it.

"I've got myself to lose," said Xander. "If I give in to this madness, then I'm losing myself. Faith and Angelus have been so organized, so in the know, that they've been able to kill every new Slayer that is called. I'm not tooting my own horn here, but if not for me, things would be a hell of a lot worse."

BOOM!—three cracks were now in the door, its hinges nearly pulled out of their concrete base.

"Trust me," whispered Anya, looking at him through tear filled eyes. "I want you back, and if you don't fight this thing right now, we're going to lose you forever."

"I did all of this for you," replied Xander, barely loud enough to be heard. 

"Trust in my love."

Xander slowly raised his head and looked her in the eyes, his own now threatening to release their own stream of tears.

"Come back to me, Xander."

With one final tremendous boom, the door crashed down, flooding the crypt with a rolling cloud of dust, the silhouette of Faith, back lit by moonlight, framed in the doorway. Faith roared with utter hatred, snarling in rage for the man that killed her Angelus; the man that had managed to actually hurt her; the man that had refused to roll over and die like the others.

Faith leapt as Xander at the same instant that he slipped of his wedding ring…

Elsewhere…

Xander's body jerked violently, arching for a moment before dropping back down to his bed, his lungs drawing in such a deep breath that it sounded like a gasp, and the monitoring equipment hooked up to him beeping wildly. His eyes snapped open for the first time in weeks, and he looked wildly about the room, taking the forms of everyone that was there.

Giles, Willow, Tara, Angel, Cordelia, and even Spike, were all huddled around his been, looking at him with concern. Between them, he could see Buffy and Anya setting in chairs, both of them moving groggily, as if they were just waking up. The air was thick with the smell of some incense, and there was a power to it that Xander immediately recognized as magic.

"Hi," said Xander, weakly, groaning as Willow wrapped her arms around him, welcoming him back to the real world.

Anya let out a squeal of delight as she came to her senses, and she leapt out of her chair, nearly knocking over Spike as he tended to the waking Buffy. Anya practically jumped onto the bed, hugging Xander tightly and showering his face with kisses, all the time thanking him for believing in her even though he thought she was dead.

"I missed you too," Xander finally managed to get out, before falling into a deep kiss with her.

"Oh, if this isn't a bloody Kodak moment," quipped Spike, drawing a wide-eyed look from Xander.

__

finish


End file.
